‘Yes, sir.’ Somerset lowered the document he was reading, saluted and made his way over to the horse line where several mounts waited in the shade of some cedar trees, their tails flicking at the flies that buzzed round them in a constant cloud. He unhitched the reins and swung himself up on to the saddle of the nearest horse, then spurred it towards the track that led down to the bridge.

While he waited, Arthur pulled a blank sheet of paper towards him and took up a pen. He paused a moment as he composed the arguments necessary to try to squeeze more money and men from the government. Try as he might,Arthur could think of no new way to state the obvious. If the politicians in London were serious about winning the war then they would provide the means to see it through. If they were not serious, then whatever Arthur said would not sway them from the path to defeat. All that he could do was lay the facts in front of his political masters and trust to their good sense. With a deep, weary sigh, he flipped open the cap of the inkwell, dipped his pen and began to write.

‘Cradock!’ Arthur looked up as Somerset returned with another officer. He lowered his pen and rose from his chair, leaving the table to greet the new arrival. Cradock’s short jacket and bicorne hat were covered with dust, which had also settled into the creases of his face, making him look far older than he was. ‘Good to see you!’

Cradock saluted briefly and grinned. ‘And you, sir.’

‘How was the journey?’ Arthur asked, and then shook his head apologetically. ‘By God, where are my manners? You must be hot and thirsty. Somerset, get you to the innkeeper and have some refreshment brought here.’

Somerset nodded and hurried away. Arthur turned his attention back to Cradock and lowered his voice. ‘I’ll ask about the journey later. First, tell me that you have changed the Spanish gold.’

‘Yes, sir. It’s locked away in pay chests in the wagons. Though I’ll admit that a hundred thousand in gold doesn’t buy as much Portuguese currency as one would like.’

Arthur looked sharply at him. ‘Explain yourself.’

‘It’s the money changers, sir. They knew how much we needed the money and charged a somewhat higher commission than we were expecting. I did what I could to get the best deal.’

Arthur frowned. ‘Damn them! The Spanish are fighting to survive, and we’re putting our heads on the block to try to help them, yet those blasted bankers still try to get their claws on every last penny that passes before them. By God, sometimes they forget whose side they’re on.’

‘Alas, sir.’ Cradock shook his head. ‘ ’Tis a well-known fact that bankers are a nation unto themselves and damned be the rest.’